


I Loved You from the Very First Day

by kikitheslayer



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Getting Together, POV Laura Hollis, also minor danny/betty tho but not enough to merit a tag, both perry and dean!perry exist in this universe because i say so, ive never written anything with this much plot before wow, liberal use of canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikitheslayer/pseuds/kikitheslayer
Summary: Carmilla Karnstein is just your average bookstore employee with a tragic past. She may have powers, but she isnota superhero. Except, well, when dark energy starts manifesting around the cute girl in your apartment complex, you don't just turn away, right? And when that girl so happens to be an excitable reporter in need of a big scoop, well...





	I Loved You from the Very First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2017 Carmilla Big Bang! A lot of thanks to my amazing beta, @toogaytofindaurl on tumblr.
> 
> Also on tumblr, @undeniablytherealist made some awesome art for this fic which can be viewed here!! http://notthecitieswelove.tumblr.com/post/165355438856/carmilla-big-bang-2017
> 
> Content warnings: This fic contains some short, non-vivid scenes of violence/attempted violence, including one toward a young woman about 2/3 of the way through.

Danny was not surprised when the door to her office swung open. She was not phased that it was pushed with enough strength and disregard for the metal handle to hit her other wall and rattle the picture frames on her walls. She did her best to put on a performance. She made a few nebulous pen marks in the margin of a scrap of paperwork on her desk, her best approximation of working hard. That way, when Laura entered her office, cringing slightly at the noise she had produced, Danny could look up with a slight gasp. It was the least she could do.

“Elsie?” Laura demanded, recovering quickly and striding farther into Danny’s office. She did not bother to shut the door behind her. “Elsie,” she repeated, her voice flat. “Of all people. Elsie.”

Danny shrugged, setting down the pen and leaning forward. She steepled her fingers under her chin. “Elsie,” she agreed.

Laura deflated. She let her arms hang limply at her sides. She took a few steps into Danny’s office before stopping and turning to close the door. Finally, she turned and walked back to the desk, sinking into the chair across from Danny.

Danny reached forward calmly, moving a tall stack of papers from in front of Laura, allowing her to collapse, somewhat pathetically, head over arms, onto the desk.

“You done?” asked Danny. She swiveled in her seat and glanced briefly back at her computer. She began absently deleting emails as she waited.

Laura groaned and sat up. “I think so,” she said. She leaned back in her chair to momentarily look up at the ceiling. She refocused, snapping back to attention and pointed accusatorily at Danny. “You could have at least warned me, you know.” She crossed her arms. “This is totally on you.”

Danny offered her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. I kept meaning to tell you, and then I had all the Superfrat paperwork…”

Laura winced. “That’s still going on?” she asked.

Danny nodded. “Yep. We are still getting sued by my magnum opus, the McDouche.”

“I bet he doesn’t even know what ‘libel’ means.”

Danny mused, “I’d be surprised.”

“Well,” said Laura, “you should still have warned me. Not nice, Lawrence.”

Danny frowned. “I know. I’m sorry.” She sat up, splaying her hands on the desk. “Look. This isn’t common knowledge yet, but Sarah Jane’s got another job lined up, so there’ll be another position open next quarter. If we’re still in business by then, I’ll see to it personally that it goes to the reporter who deserves it most.” She levelled a look at Laura. “I swear.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Laura picked at a spot of lint on the knee of her black pants. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t Elsie, you know? I mean, I can’t be that bad right? What world is it where she can get an editor position, and I can’t?”

“Kind of a fucked one,” said Danny, rolling her eyes. “But that’s where The Silas is at right now. People get all their news from the internet, Hollis. And if they miraculously choose to subscribe to a print newspaper, there are a half dozen more prestigious options in this city alone. People only want one thing from us --”

“I know,” sighed Laura, “I’ve heard your ‘we’re underfunded’ speech before, remember?” She held up air quotes, taking on a stilted voice. “‘The public only wants tabloid-esque --’”

Danny smiled wryly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Laura. “I just can’t believe that, you know? We do good work. I can’t believe that people would only subscribe to us to get The Swagmaster.”

“I still feel we should have revoked Elsie’s naming rights.”

Laura laughed. “Really? Even after what you did to Kirsch?”

“Shh!” cried Danny, gesturing exaggeratedly at the door. “Do you want his lawyers to hear? Whose side are you on?”

“You’re right, though,” said Laura. “I mean, I feel sorry for myself, but more so for that poor superhero. Swag hasn’t been cool since, what, 2014?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “I was never hip.”

Laura considered this for a moment before saying again, “Elsie just can’t be an editor. I mean, it’s not exactly her skill set.”

“She’s got momentum,” said Danny. “And name recognition. Which is, sorry to say, kind of what we need if we want to stay in business. Face it, Hollis, this is bigger than both of us. I mean, it won’t be in a year, when we’re both out of jobs, but right now we have to do whatever is what’s right for The Silas.”

Laura frowned. “And that’s what this is?”

“Not long-term, maybe, but right now? Yeah, it is.”

Laura slumped back in her seat. “Why can’t what’s right for The Silas ever be the thing that’s right for me?”

Danny gave her a sympathetic half-smile. “Go home early,” she said. “Go get ice cream or re-read the happy parts of Harry Potter until you feel better.” She leaned across the desk and looked Laura right in the eyes. “Then tomorrow, you come in with a story.”

Laura smiled and stood up. She paused at the door and nodded. “Whatever you say, boss.”

\--

The fresh air outside was chilled, and it was soothing in Laura’s lungs. Outside the Silas headquarters, she felt able to breath again. Still, she found that the walk to the bus stop did nothing for her overall mood. The whole world seemed to commiserate; it was a dark, misty afternoon, and a fog hung low over the pavement. Laura kicked at a piece of gravel and watched it bounce down the sidewalk until it disappeared into the gray haze. She shoved one hand into the pocket of her puffy coat, using the other to take out her phone and dial LaFontaine.

“Hey,” she greeted, before she even heard a voice on the other end of the line. “You busy?” She arrived at her bus stop and took a seat at the covered bench.

“I can talk,” they said. Distantly, Laura heard something shatter on the other end of the line, alongside a muttered, “Shit.” After a moment, during which Laura could hear more crashing, LaF asked, their voice slightly breathless, “What’s up?”

Laura sighed, taking a moment as she decided what to say. “It’s just dumb,” she settled on saying. “I… didn’t get the job. They gave it to Elsie instead.”

The bus pulled up, and Laura got on, shifting the phone to her other hand as she dug her bus card out of her wallet. She claimed a seat at the back, by a window, and looked out at the city as the bus chugged to life.

“No way!” cried LaF. “I mean, her piece was good, but --”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Laura. She rolled her eyes at no one in particular, though she smiled and affection creeped into her voice. “I know you love the Swagmaster.”

“Sorry,” said LaF sheepishly. “She’s just cool, you know? She’s a total bitch. And her power is knowledge.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Fine. The Swagmaster’s got it all. But so do I! I have journalistic integrity on my side. When did that stop being cool? Who’s going to give it up for the Rory Gilmores of the world?”

“Seriously? Cause I’ve had to listen to your extensive opinions on the flaws in her journalism like four separate times.”

“Okay, bad example. The Lois Lanes of the world. What do we have to do to get noticed?”

“Okay, so, you’re not going to like this, but --”

Laura cut them off. “Do not say superhero.”

“You asked.”

Laura rested her head against her seat and watched the city roll by outside the window. Through the fog, she could make out rows and rows of grey buildings, so tall she couldn’t see where some of them ended. Hundreds of lit windows flew by the bus window. They stood out against the monotone and made Laura feel at once very lonely and surrounded by love. Somewhere up there, between the skyscrapers, so distant they were little more than specks, Laura could make out to brightly colored objects flying through the sky. She knew that they were fighting, but from there, it looked more like a dance.

“I could be in New York right now,” she said. “Styria is the worst.”

“We are pretty singularly focused.”

“And even if I did want to write about a superhero,” Laura said, “which I do not, it’s not like one is going to just drop into my lap.”

LaF laughed on the other end of the line. “Oh my god, how cool would that be?”

\--

In her apartment, Laura sat down on her couch and pulled out her laptop. She clicked through her files, considering each of her unfinished pieces, but none spoke to her. Finally, she opened one, a puff piece that should have been a knock out of the park. She watched the cursor at the end of the last sentence blink, black and white, black and white, taunting her. What felt like hours later, when the room had darkened, and the white computer screen made her strain her eyes, she sighed and shut her laptop, setting it aside and settling against the back of the couch. She let her neck fall and stared up at the ceiling, studying the smooth emptiness. She drifted into a hazy sleep.

Laura’s dream was messy. It was like a charcoal drawing. All black and grays, shapes but no defined lines. She dreamed a cat, as big and black as a panther, prowled through a shadow of her apartment. Laura could track its breathing by the movement of its velvet fur. It was preoccupied, its yellow eyes darting across the room. They glowed softly in the dark. Like stars.

Suddenly, in the middle of the room, just across from her, the cat stopped. It slowly turned its head toward her, and their eyes met. Laura felt that it could see right through her. She turned away.

Laura’s eyes blinked open to the black of her living room. It didn’t look natural, familiar like her apartment should have been. There was something sinister lurking in those shadows.

Laura groaned, trying to shake away the uneasy feeling. She stood up and padded into her bedroom.

She stopped halfway there. A chilly gust had breezed past her. She turned slowly, her eyes widening. The door to her balcony hung ajar.

Laura approached it slowly. “Hello?” she asked. She leaned slightly out of her door, though her feet remained firmly rooted in her living room.

Something bright glowed in the dark. Laura’s eyes focused and she realized that it was the same pair of eyes she had seen so clearly in her dream. Perched delicately on her balcony railing, its tail neatly swaying in the air, sat a big, black cat. A panther. Its eyes met Laura’s, and this time, neither looked away.

Laura held her breath. She didn’t even blink.

Without warning, the cat turned its head and leapt, graceful, off the building.

“Wait!” cried Laura, regaining the ability to move. She ran toward the edge of the balcony, the cold air a loud rush in her ears. She gripped the railing and stopped with a gasp. She peered over the edge, but she couldn’t make out anything in the murky streets below.

\--

Laura tried to put it out of her head the next day. She put on a simple black pantsuit and tugged her hair into a neat ponytail. She stepped onto the elevator, clutching a neat stack of papers in front of her.

The silver doors slid open, and a woman stepped in. She was wearing a leather vest over a black T-shirt and her hair was pulled into a messy bun. A bag covered in patches hung over her shoulder. She was nonchalant, her attention on the phone in her hand. She barely looked up even as she pressed the button for her floor. Laura swallowed and focused on the elevator doors as they slid closed.

Laura knew Carmilla. She was her neighbor, three doors down. She had moved in a couple of months ago, and Laura had made her acquaintance over a handful of past elevator rides and occasional greetings in the hallways.

“Hey,” said Laura, still not looking her way.

Carmilla looked up from her phone. “Hey,” she said, slipping it into her pants pocket, a lopsided smile coming onto her face. “Laura, right?”

“That’s me!” piped Laura, shaking her head internally even as she said it. “And you’re… Carmilla, right?”

“Yep.” Carmilla paused. “So… lot of work today?”

“What?”

Carmilla nodded down at Laura’s pile of papers.

“Oh!” she said. “Yeah, kinda. I’m a reporter over at The Silas, and I’m trying to --” She stopped short. “Long story.”

“Really?” asked Carmilla. “That’s pretty cool. I just work at the Belmonde's bookstore downtown.”

“Oh,” said Laura. “I love that bookstore.”

“You do?” asked Carmilla, her brow furrowing though the smile did not leave her face. “I’ve never seen you there before.”

“Well,” Laura said, shrugging, “bookstores. I love bookstores. I will totally check out Belmonde's.”

Carmilla nodded at her as the doors slid open. “I work nights. You should definitely stop by sometime.” She stepped off the elevator with a small wave.

Laura slouched against the wall and sighed. I love bookstores?

\--

To get from her bus stop to the Silas Headquarters, Laura had to cut across a large park. That day, the grass was frosty and crunched under her feet as she walked. Most of the trees were free of their leaves by then, their branches making them look like twisted skeletons.

She walked quickly. She wasn’t exactly eager to get to the office, to be surrounded by reminders of her recent failure, but she was eager to get to work. Laura had never been the type to get discouraged when things went wrong. She simply pulled her hair back and redoubled her efforts.

Laura walked along the edge of the park, near a patch of dense pine trees. Mud squished under her feet and a stiff breeze blew against her, whipping her hair in her face and forcing her to fight against it as she continued.

Then, suddenly, Laura stopped. She couldn’t explain it, but she had felt something off. It made her shiver, made her ice cold to her core. She shook it off and kept walking, though even faster this time. She soon felt it again, however, this time stronger, a creeping pressure against her foot. She looked down and started when she saw a brown root snaking itself over her foot and around her ankle. She tried to run away but its grip was too strong, and she couldn’t budge. As she stumbled, trying to push forward with a jogging motion, still more tendrils pushed through the wet ground and wrapped themselves around her feet. She would have fallen, but the roots were making their way up her legs now, holding her in place, as though she were slowly being turned into a statue. “Help!” she yelled, though she didn’t know what she expected anyone to do.

A deafening roar sounded behind Laura. She turned, shocked to discover the panther of the night before, which, until that moment, she had not been sure was not a dream, leaping toward her. It was a dark blur through the sky, a bolt of black lightning. It opened its great jaws and roared again, its teeth glinting silver in the sunlight.

The panther landed gracefully on its feet, only a foot away from her. Its head was bent down, growling, and it looked ready to pounce. It reached forward a velvet paw, stomping where some of the roots had sprung. The roots halted abruptly, and their grip weakened. Laura was able to adjust her position. The panther simply sat there, seeming somehow impatient. Finally, as if resigned to it, the tendrils unwrapped themselves from Laura. They disappeared back into the ground slowly, as though sulking.

Laura hardly had time to process her safety. She turned to the panther. It blinked, its eyes following her. “I know you,” Laura said, her voice soft and almost reverent.

The panther paused a moment before it turned and bounding away, disappearing into the shadows cast by the trees.

\--

Laura did not go to work that day. It did not seem worth it, not with her blouse streaked with mud and her papers scattered by the wind all across the park. She called Danny on her walk back to the bus stop, her words coming out too quickly. “I think I’ve got a story,” she told the answering machine. “I’m following up a lead. I'll give you the details later.”

The bus stopped at her street, but she did not get off. She rode it all the way to the hardware store.

\--

That night, Laura multi-tasked baking cookies and setting up her trap. She hummed to herself as she worked, now sliding a tray into the oven, now securing a rope to the heaviest armchair in her living room.

When she had finished, she stepped back, admiring her work. The timer beeped. Laura piled them onto a plate and took a seat on the couch. She took a bite of one, trying not to make a mess, though the cookie was crumbly and the chocolate piping hot. She turned on a Netflix Friends marathon, the volume low, and settled in. She kept glancing furtively over her shoulder at the front door. It looked as though it was going to be quite a night.

\--

Laura awoke to a crash. Her eyes shot open, and she sat up with a start. In a moment, everything -- from the danger in the park to the trap in her entry way -- came rushing back to her. “Shoot,” she muttered, “shoot, shoot, shoot!” She had fallen asleep still curled on the couch with the plate in her lap. The screen on her TV had turned to Netflix’s “Still Watching?” screen, and the light it cast on the apartment was too dim for Laura to make out the doorway.

Laura picked up the plate and straightened, her joints stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position.

She set the plate down on her coffee table, taking extra care to set it down lightly, and made her way towards the entryway, barely daring to breathe, the sound of each step she took like a strike against her chest.

Her eyes adjusted as she went, and soon she was able to make out a struggling lump in her entryway.

The net shifted, and Laura caught those yellow eyes, still almost glowing. And this time, undeniably angry.

Laura’s lips curled into a smile. “Gotcha,” she whispered.

\--

The problem, as Laura soon discovered, was that there was no easy or intuitive way to interrogate a cat. “So…” she began, as soon as the adrenaline had worn off and she had turned on a light. “Can I get you anything? Milk? Dead mouse?”

The second problem she discovered was that panthers, on average, were much stronger than the mesh netting she had bought in bulk at the Home Depot.

And so, those were the discoveries that prompted Laura finding herself standing on top of her kitchen table, her feet in an awkward position so as to miss uncleared dishes, attempting to reason with a panther that was twice as big as her and surely twice as unwilling to compromise. Bits of torn netting were still stuck to its fur in places. “Hey, buddy…” Laura tried, holding up her hands in what she hoped was still a calming gesture in cat-language.

The panther looked up at her with an expression that, had Laura not known better, she might have characterized as annoyance. Its whiskers twitched. The panther continued to stare until finally it stamped one of its paws on the ground in an almost childish expression of discontent. When this failed to elicit much of a noise, the panther grew only more aggravated, slamming its soft paw against the ground until finally, it yelled, “Fuck!”

Laura started, and was amazed to find that right before her eyes, in an instant so natural Laura had barely noticed anything unusual at all, the panther had turned into a girl with black hair, who now sat on her kitchen floor.

“Carmilla?” Laura demanded.

Carmilla shot her an angry look, struggling to rise from the floor. “That would be me,” she said, “who you so rudely tried to capture like some sort of wild animal for sport --”

Laura was suddenly very aware of her position standing on the table. She clambered down abruptly, sinking into a seat instead. “I am so sorry,” she said, leaning forward and gesticulating with her hands. “I had no idea --”

Carmilla stretched. She say back into one of the seats at Laura’s table, too. “Well?” she demanded.

“What?”

“What do you want?” Carmilla snapped. She tapped her fingers rapidly on the table. “Friends don’t capture friends without ridiculous requests.”

“Well,” said Laura, shooting Carmilla a look, “friends also don’t sneak into friends’ locked apartments like freakin’ animaguses in the middle of the night! What is even going on?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. When she spoke, it was with practiced boredom. She did not look at Laura, focused instead on a piece of netting she had pulled from her hair. “It’s got nothing to do with you,” she said. “Here is the Cliffs Notes version: about a month ago, dark energy started manifesting around this place. You, in particular. I’ve been keeping an eye on it. Then, the last couple nights, things got weird. Actual… well, ‘attacks’ is the best word for it. That’s what was going on in the park today.” She shook her head. “I’ve dealt with it before. Ancient evil, unstoppable power, dead reporter girls.” She stood up from the chair and started toward the door. “I’ll be going now.”

“Wait!” cried Laura, also standing up. “This is fantastic!”

Carmilla shot her an incredulous look. “...Why exactly?”

“Well,” said Laura quickly, “okay, so the supervillain trying to kill me isn’t exactly ideal. But this is! You! You’re a superhero! An unidentified superhero. You are exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Okay,” said Carmilla, “first of all, Inanna is not a supervillain. She is ancient, and evil, and insidious, and a massive bitch. And second of all, I am not a superhero. I am not a hero of any kind. I’m not a do-gooder, not a samaritan, I’m not a long sandwich. And I especially have no interest in being given some stupid name and costume and being paraded around the news section as though I am some prized new toy.” She narrowed her eyes. “Got it?”

“Fine,” said Laura, taking a step toward Carmilla. Her gaze and voice were steely. “You don’t have to be a superhero. But in that case, you,” she cocked her head, “don’t get save my life anymore.”

Carmilla shook her head. “Like you could stop me.”

“Supervillain?” Laura yelled. “I’d like to be eaten now! Or burned! Buried, maybe? Whatever it is you do, really!” Laura lowered her voice and looked back at Carmilla. “Now, do you want to save my life and possibly also my career or not?”

Carmilla looked at her, frustration evident in the lines of her face. “I can only agree to the first part of that sentence,” she said. She marched back toward the door. At the door, she turned and said, “And you shouldn’t yell. These walls are extremely thin, and creepy Mrs. Hughes next door is going to start getting ideas.”

Before Laura could even say anything in response -- like that she and Mrs. Hughes were actually on pretty good terms -- Carmilla had turned back into a panther and slipped out of the door.

\--

Excerpt from “I NEVER SAW HER COMING” by Laura Hollis:

“ I left that first meeting with a sense of annoyance and vague pride. In my head, Carmilla Karnstein, my next door neighbor, was a distinct entity from the panther prowling around my kitchen floor. I thought I had met the next great superhero, that I had lucked into a career-altering story. I failed to realize that I had met someone better.

Back then, I considered her to be like a hurricane. She ricocheted into my life and uprooted everything I thought I knew. I thought of her as independent, as fierce, and as more beautiful than I should have. But in retrospect, regardless of the chaos she brought, she has truly been, in my life, like a sunrise. She brought hope. Everything changed, but suddenly, everything was bathed in a soft, pink light. ”

\--

Laura had big plans for Carmilla, but she was not stupid, and she saw Inanna for what she was: a threat not to be taken lightly. Laura also knew that she was no damsel in distress.

She did what any reporter worth their weight would have done. She set up some interviews.

\--

Laura smiled at the woman across her desk, clasping her fingers. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

Betty shrugged. “It’s no problem. I was meeting Elsie for drinks anyway.”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t it, like, two in the afternoon?”

Betty shrugged. “And I’m a Princeton grad. But have you ever actually met Elsie? That woman functions at her best on two tequila shots and a random hookup. I try not to question it.”

“Charming.” Laura looked down at her notebook, the last few pages of which had been hastily scrawled with insights from the internet. “I’ll get straight to it,” she said. “Do you know anyone named Inanna? Ancient evil? Hangs around these parts?”

“Shit,” said Betty, running a hand through her hair. “I know her. Well, I don’t know her, per se, but I know of her. If you’re looking for someone who knows her directly, like, personally, I’m not sure anybody can help you with that. I just know that she is bad news, and those of us who are smart try to stay away.” She took a sip from the water bottle in her hand, gesturing as she spoke. “At this point, most of us are in it for the glamour, you know? Superheroes, supervillains, it’s a blurred dichotomy, whatever. We all just try to put on a good show. But Inanna? She’s like, some primal evil, man.”

Laura nodded. “So does she have any sort of a presence at all?”

Betty shrugged. “Yeah. Some people in the underground flit around her, I guess. Morons. People who want to play around in the dark arts.”

Laura nodded and smiled at her. “Thanks for your help. Go meet Elsie.”

Betty shrugged, standing up and grabbing her purse. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful, but that’s all I know.” Before she left, she turned and asked, “Hey, so, quick question. About your cute editor. She single?”

“Who?” asked Laura, frowning. “Danny?”

Betty nodded.

“Oh,” she Laura. “Um, yeah, I think so.”

Betty smiled, waving as she left. “Tight.”

\--

Laura watched out of the glass door of her small office as Betty approached Danny, who was just stepping out of her office. Betty said something that made Danny laugh and roll her eyes.

Laura smiled and refocused on the task at hand.

\--

A while later, Laura picked up her things and left to meet Mel for lunch, giving a small wave to the other reporters with whom she shared the bullpen.

She walked to a deli just down the road from the Silas HQ. The building was comfortable, warm compared to the cold weather outside, and a comforting mix of white plastic and smooth glass. Colorful pictures of food, burgers and shakes, hung on the walls.

Laura sipped ice water as she waited, perusing the menu.

Mel finally rushed in about fifteen minutes late. Her hair was a mess, and there was a streak of blood dripping down her cheek. “Sorry,” she said, sliding into the booth and offering Laura a sheepish smile. “I got into a fight with Doc Dangerous over by the big Macy’s, and it ran a little long.”

“No problem,” Laura said brightly. She gestured lightly at the blood on Mel’s face. “You've got a little…”

It took Mel a moment to get it. “Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes and wiping it away with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s not real blood, anyway. I want to say food coloring and cornstarch?” She laughed. “Doc is an old friend. He just needed a boost today.”

Laura nodded knowingly. “I think we had a reporter over there.”

“Michelle,” said Mel, nodding. “I said hi.”

“So,” Laura began, setting aside the menu and crisply opening to a new page in her notebook. “What do you know about Inanna?”

Mel took a breath and glanced up at the ceiling. “You sure this is something you want to be poking around in?”

“Yes,” said Laura. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Mel said, shaking her head. “You asked. Inanna is…” she waved a hand, “around. Everyone knows her, but it’s best to ignore her if you can. She runs a pretty wild party scene, though. A lot of young heroes get sucked in.”

Laura's brow furrowed. “Do you know where I could find her?” she asked.

Mel shook her head. “Come morning, Inanna’s gone. I mean, her parties bounce around from one set piece to the next -- night clubs, mansions, abandoned warehouses, you know, the works -- but nobody… She’s not the kind of person with a weakness. Let's leave it at that. She certainly doesn’t have any friends.”

Laura nodded, jotting down some quick notes. “Good to know.”

“If I were you,” said Mel, “I would stay as far away from this as possible. There’s no story here. And if there is, it’s not one I would want to print.”

“Thanks,” said Laura. “But trust me. This is bigger than The Silas.”

Mel shrugged, opening her menu. “Suit yourself.”

\--

Later that afternoon, Laura began the long trek home. It was twilight already, and the city was bathed in a half-light, the darkening sky illuminated by yellow streetlights and lit windows in tall buildings, where people would still be working long into the night.

Laura was standing still waiting for the bus, wearing a heavy coat, her blue earbuds in. She nodded her head a little to the beat, lost in the tune of a pop album she knew by heart.

She saw Carmilla before she saw the men. The cat leapt out of the crowd gathered at the square in front of her. It seemed to part the crowd before her in a wave, heads turning as people stumbled backwards to give her room. She flew through them as quickly as a shadow overtakes a darkened room, and she landed just as gently.

Laura did not have to time to admire Carmilla’s finesse, however, as she felt herself tugged backward, a cold pressure on her neck.

Laura shut her eyes tight and allowed her instincts to take over. She kicked backward with all her might, just enough to slacken her attacker’s grip, for the knife against her neck to fall away. Laura pulled free. Turning quickly, she caught a glimpse of the man’s face, a glint of fang. She didn’t have time to think about it. She jammed the heel of her palm into the man’s nose as hard as she could. Before she could act further, however, Carmilla leapt and knocked the man away from her. Carmilla swirled her head in Laura’s direction, still swiping with her paws at the man. She snarled, and Laura knew exactly what she meant.

Laura followed the advice. She turned and ran as quickly as her legs would carry her, elbowing people out of the way as she cut a zigzag pattern through the crowd. She ignored their angered shouts, the blood dripping down her hand, and flew across streets until she was certain she had lost her assailants. She stopped finally to rest in the shielding dark of an unlit alleyway.

\--

Laura panted all through her journey home, throwing fervent glances at the street behind her, her keys clutched between her knuckles. When she finally reached her apartment building, she jogged up the stairs, and her hands shook as she unlocked her door. Finally inside, she sank to the floor and ran a hand through her hair.

Adrenaline still pumped through her. She pushed up off the ground. Tapping her fingers frantically against her leg, she power-walked to her bookshelf.

\--

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at Laura’s door.

Laura pulled herself up off the floor and stepped carefully over piles on the way to her door. The knock came again, louder this time. Laura stood on her tiptoes first, peering through the peephole at the person waiting in the hall. Carmilla was there, shifting, looking anxiously around her. Her arms were crossed over her chest.

Laura fell back on her heels and pulled the door open.

“Lau --” Carmilla began, shoving her way past Laura and into the apartment. She stopped suddenly, at the end of the entryway, taking in the mess on the living room floor. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Laura shut the door carefully, taking care to lock it. She walked back into the living room. “I reorganize my bookshelf when I have too much energy.”

Carmilla shook her head, spinning around. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice back to sounding out of breath and a little desperate.

“I’m okay,” said Laura. “Are you okay? What happened after I left?”

Carmilla shook her head. “It’s taken care of.”

Laura nodded. “Good,” she said. “Good. So in that case, I can move onto my next question.”

“What’s that?” asked Carmilla.

Laura placed her hands on her hips. “Were you stalking me?” she demanded.

“What?” asked Carmilla. “No. Wait, yes.” She held up a hand. “And it clearly paid off.”

“I can take care of myself!” cried Laura. “Did you not see my Krav Maga?”

“Very impressive,” said Carmilla. “But not as impressive as magic panther skills.”

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be giant cats, Carm!” cried Laura. “Thank you for the help, okay? Any big boss battles come up, I will call you. But I am perfectly capable of handling things myself until then.”

Carmilla faltered for a moment. Then, she crossed her arms, straightening up. “No.”

“What?”

“No. I am supposed to protect you. That means I can’t leave you alone.”

Laura attempted to meet her height. “Alright, deal. But then I get to write my article about you.”

“Fine,” said Carmilla tersely. “Write your little article. Write about Inanna, write about getting killed. Just don't make me into a hero.”

“Well,” said Laura, “I guess that settles it. I will only write about your heroics.”

“Fine.” Carmilla shoved a hand forward, and Laura shook it, not breaking Carmilla’s gaze.

“So,” Laura said. “I’m going to pick up take-out. Are you going to stalk me there?”

Carmilla dropped her arms. “Yes.”

“Fine.” Laura grabbed a jacket off the back of a chair and marched out of the apartment and down the hall. Carmilla followed a few feet behind.

\--

After they had gotten nearly a block down the street, Laura turned around. “Okay,” she said, throwing her hands up, “this is just kind of weird. Could you stop walking behind me like a vampire? Just walk next to me like a normal, non-bodyguard situation.”

Carmilla smiled, quickly bridging the gap and catching up to her. “Careful,” she said. “One might almost forget you’re in mortal danger.”

Laura smiled. “Even with you around?”

“Even then.”

\--

“Want to come in?” asked Laura, nodding at her apartment door. It stood slightly ajar, the key hanging from the lock. They were standing in their hallway, dim at this time of night, the styrofoam boxes warm and heavy in Laura’s hands. “I definitely got enough for two people.” She laughed slightly.

Carmilla shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I’ll just…” She nodded down the hallway at her own apartment.

Laura nodded. “Right. Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Carm.” She pushed inside, looking over her shoulder and waving.

Carmilla only smiled back.

\--

Laura sat down to work at her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keys, stopping only infrequently to grab a bite of noodles out of the open takeout container next to her. Finally, when she found that she could no longer concentrate, and that her sentences were becoming more and more scrambled, she slammed down the lid of her laptop and sighed.

She slipped into a pair of shoes and ducked out of her apartment, rushing down the hallway and back again without lingering, without waiting to see what happened.

\--

Carmilla opened her door a few moments after she heard the knock. She looked around at first, and then, confused, looked down. There, she spotted the little styrofoam container and the fortune cookie settled just above the box. She sighed slightly and smiled, glancing down the hallway. She bent to pick it up.

The next day, Laura found a yellow post-it note stuck to her door. It read, in purple ink in a cramped script, “Thanks, creampuff.”

\--

“So,” Carmilla mused one evening, “what does this arrangement make you?”

It was the kind of freezing night where it was too cold for snow, for moisture, for movement. The air was still and clear around them, and the frost on the grass crunched beneath their feet as they walked across the park. They were both bundled in large jackets, scarves, and gloves. Their breath was visible in the fading sunlight, and Laura noticed that Carmilla's cheeks were blushed a rosy pink.

“What do you mean?” asked Laura. “I’m me.”

“You know what I mean,” said Carmilla. She seemed to stumble slightly in her walk; her shoulder bumped Laura’s. “In terms of superhero cliches, which do you want to be? The sidekick? The angry commissioner?”

“No and no,” Laura replied. “First, even if I was in the mood to be someone’s sidekick, I think you need some sort of power to do that.”

“You'd be surprised. Commissioner?”

Laura shook her head. “I don't have the right mustache.”

Carmilla cocked her head and considered Laura for a moment. “I suppose not,” she concluded. “So tell me. What do you think you are?” She added, “No pressure. Consider this a conversational Buzzfeed quiz.”

Laura chuckled at that. Then, earnestly, she answered, “I'm the Lois Lane.”

“Which would make me…”

“Superman.”

“And that's how you see us,” said Carmilla, only the hint of a question in her voice. They were approaching a road. She kept her eyes focused on the road.

“Yeah,” Laura said, and it didn't come out as strong as she meant it to. She stole a look at Carmilla.

“I'm glad,” said Carmilla. She kept her gaze fixed ahead. She didn't smile, even though she wanted to.

\--

The next day, after an afternoon which Laura had spent following up other articles’ leads, Carmilla wedged herself into Laura’s office. In that moment, Laura looked at her like an angel from above. She had coffee.

Laura looked up from the computer. “I was wondering where you were.”

Carmilla handed Laura the latte and then took a seat, stretching out over the armchair in the corner of Laura’s office. “I’ve been around,” she said. “Listen, what are your plans tonight?”

“I'm free,” said Laura, near instantly. “Or --” She spared a look at her desk. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of work to do on this story. What’s up with you?”

Carmilla waved a hand. “I have to work a shift over at Belmonde's. I don't suppose I could convince you to tag along? I know it’s not ideal, but there are computers and stuff there --”

“Oh,” said Laura. “Sure. Sounds good.” She paused. “It’s a…” she smiled, her voice delicate, “bodyguard arrangement.”

Carmilla smiled and stood up. “Great. I’ll be around. I'll pick you up later.” She paused at the doorway. “Oh,” she added, “And don’t worry about taking the bus.”

\--

“So… you don’t think this is a little cliche?”

“What do mean?” asked Carmilla, crossing her arms. “It’s efficient.”

“Seriously?” Laura almost laughed. “There is so much traffic in this city, not to mention parking. And the whole ‘ooh, dark and scary panther vigilante’ thing? This is such a stereotype.”

Carmilla placed her hands on her hips. “Well, your whole… wholesome do-gooder reporter act would work just as well without all your cutesy business casual animal patterns, now wouldn’t it?”

“Okay, okay, fair point. I am saying nothing.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes fondly. “Get on the motorbike.”

“You mean the Vespa?” Laura quickly threw up her hands in mock-defense. “Saying nothing!”

\--

Hugging Carmilla tightly as they zipped through the city streets, the wind against their backs, Laura really did find herself speechless.

\--

Belmonde's was a small bookstore, easy to miss in a city as big and happening as Styria. It was a tall, thin building of brown brick, sandwiched between two others, a ramen place and a generic apartment building. Its windows, boasting colorful displays of books in every shape and size, stood out warm and friendly on the cold night, like a hearth.

The steps were thin, and Carmilla had to walk ahead of Laura. She pushed open the red wooden door, stepping inside and holding it open for Laura, who got a view of the whole bookstore as she stepped inside.

The counter, a shiny mahogany, was right in front of the entryway. Carmilla walked forward a bit and rested her elbows on the counter, peering at the computer screen of the man working behind the counter. He looked up momentarily. “Hello, Carm,” he greeted. “There are donations boxes to stock in the back.”

“Thanks, JP.” Carmilla reached over the counter and pulled a branded half-apron from underneath. She deftly straightened and tied it around her waist. Then, she nodded behind her. “This is Laura,” she said. “She’s a reporter with The Silas.”

JP raised an eyebrow at Carmilla but smiled at Laura. “JP. Nice to meet you.”

Laura smiled and waved, walking up to stand beside Carmilla. “Hi. You, too.”

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair. “Boss-lady in yet?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” JP replied, glancing around. “You want me to keep her… out of the back?”

“No,” said Carmilla. “Just wondering.” She turned to Laura. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Laura smiled and nodded.

As they walked farther into the store, Carmilla turned to JP and mouthed,her eyes daggers, “Be cool.”

Carmilla pulled a key out from the pocket of her apron and unlocked a door to a small, darkened store room.

Carmilla flicked on a light switch, illuminating the drab room. Its walls were beige, its floor grey stone. Inside, there were stacks of cardboard boxes and a few folding chairs, as well as a couple of large carts on wheels, each holding only a few books.

Carmilla gestured at the piles of boxes on the floor. “These are our donation boxes,” she said. “Already pre-selected for shelving. We just have to sort them by genre and then author’s last name.”

“Okay,” said Laura. “You sort, and I'll alphabetize.”

“Thanks,” said Carmilla. She pulled up a chair, sitting down and pulling a box up between her legs.

Laura walked up to one of the carts and saw colorful labels on the sides distinguishing the shelves by genre. As Carmilla handed her books, Laura began speaking. “So,” she said, like she was just chatting, “I’ve been trying to decide on your superhero identity.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Are we back on this?” she asked. “I don't suppose you've come to the conclusion that I don't need one?”

Laura waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “More like I've been trying to decide what name best encapsulates your heroics.”

Carmilla handed her a book. “Adult comma mystery. I didn't realize that there had been any heroics.”

Laura took the book and stuck it on a shelf. “Well, what would you call them?”

Carmilla looked up from the box in her lap and smiled hopefully at Laura. “Favors for a friend?”

Laura met her eyes, smiling back. “Fine. Heroics for a friend, then. You're a popular girl. I bet you've done heroic favors for a lot of friends. Ergo, you are a bonafide superhero.”

Carmilla looked down, mindlessly rearranging some of the books in the box. “I'm more of ‘go it alone’ type of girl. Friends are… tangential.”

Laura furrowed her brow. “Gee. Thanks.”

“But…” Carmilla said delicately, turning in the chair and inching forward, “you're not.”

The small room suddenly seemed much smaller. The air seemed warm, though by all accounts it should not have been.

Laura spoke quickly. “So I guess you're not really gonna dig Panther Girl, dare you?”

“What?” asked Carmilla. “Oh.” She paused. Then: “Wait, that’s what you came up with? After all that time and thought? You think I should be called Panther Girl.”

“Or Puma Girl? Car identification is not really my area of expertise.”

Carmilla’s hands went back to carding through the box of books. “I’ve already got a name picked out,” she said.

Laura looked up from her work. “What is it?”

Carmilla smiled at her. It was warm and genuine, her lips just this side of shiny in the room’s dim electric light, and her dark eyes were bright. Looking at her, for just a moment, Laura, amidst so much chaos. felt calm.

“Carmilla.”

\--

They had been sorting in silence for a couple of minutes when, without warning, without so much as the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the door swung open. “Hello, darlings,” said the woman who entered. She had a brilliant smile and eyes that ran up and down Laura in an instant. Laura knew instantly that this woman owned any room she walked in.

The woman extended a hand and approached Laura. “You must be Laura,” she said. “Carm has told me about you, you know.”

Laura shook it, noting that the woman’s nails were impeccable and sharp. Her grip was firm. “Really?” she asked. “What has she --”

“I’m Mattie,” the woman interrupted. “Owner of Belmonde’s. And Carmilla’s sister.”

Carmilla laughed nervously. “That’s her. My big sis.” Carmilla stood, crossing her arms and shooting a look at Mattie. “And I’m sure she was just leaving.”

Mattie shook her head. “And what type of host would I be if I did that? I want to know all about the girl who has Carm so taken. She’s rarely like this, you know. She can be…” Mattie waved a hand and thought.

“Annoyed?” put in Carmilla desperately, though nobody responded.

“I was going to say ‘catty.’”

“Carmill’s been a huge help on this article,” said Laura. “I mean, we sort of just met, but she’s already been -- Well, I mean, we’ve been neighbors for a while. But we’ve only been spending time together for a little while. She’s --”

Mattie raised an eyebrow, a smile on her lips. “Spending time together? How quaint.”

Carmilla buried her head in her hands until she was merely a mass of black hair.

“Oh!” said Laura quickly. “No, we’re not -- I mean, not that I’m not -- well, I guess, I’m taken with her, too. Is that too…?” She paused and took a breath. “She’s helping me with an article.”

Mattie smiled. “She mentioned that! She was talking about you for so long I had to --”

“Mattie,” hissed Carmilla.

Mattie laughed lightly and rested her hand momentarily on Laura’s shoulder. “Alright, I think our dear Carmilla might have an aneurism if I keep speaking. But feel free to look around the store. I’m sure I don’t mean for Carmilla to be putting you to work.”

Laura nodded. “Thanks, Mattie. It was nice to meet you.”

“Of course! And we must talk again soon, so that I can tell you all of the ridiculous things Carmilla has told me about you.”

Mattie smirked at Carmilla one more time before she walked, almost glided, back into the store.

“Wow,” said Laura.

Carmilla looked up and ran a hand through her hair. “Yep,” she said, her voice strained. “Sorry about that.”

“No,” said Laura, grinning. “I think I really like her.”

“Oh,” said Carmilla. “I’m glad. I too like my very, very, very untrustworthy sister.”

Laura smiled. “Of course.”

\--

That night, Carmilla showed Laura around the rest of the store. When the whole store was dim and quiet in the way only used bookstores can be, smelling like old ink and brittle pages, they found themselves sitting on the floor in one of the deserted classics aisles, their backs against the shelves and theirs legs stretched out. Even beyond the shelves, piles of old books sat stacked high on the floor, partially cutting off the entrance to the aisle, and making both of them privately feel that they existed together in a world apart from the one that they had until recently inhabited alone.

“Come on!” argued Laura. “She is a complete genius. And Mr. Darcy? The only male protagonist I would trust with someone as good as Elizabeth Bennett. Or Keira Knightley.”

Carmilla shook her head. “I’m not arguing that she isn’t skilled,” she said, “but do all her books have to be so dull? They’re all so… kind.”

Laura cut in, “You need to re-read Emma.”

Carmilla shook her head. “I just prefer the Brontes, you know? They’re gothic. They’re interesting.”

“Huh,” said Laura, looking up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“It’s just…” Laura shrugged and looked back at Carmilla. “Okay, I guess I get your point. But you? Tortured, and yes, heroic English major? You seem like you would like something kind. Romantic.”

Carmilla thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said, “I think I used to.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Fine, you cynic.” She lightly shoved Carmilla on the shoulder. “But you are buying dinner tonight. Jane Austen tax.”

Carmilla laughed but nodded. “Fine.”

Laura smiled at her. “My dear Rochester.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow and smiled back. “My dear Elizabeth.”

Laura looked at her for a second too long. Then, blinking, she stood up and stretched. She yawned. “How about that for your new superhero name?”

“Rochester?” asked Carmilla, standing as well. “Worse than Panther Girl. I hate it.”

They walked out of the aisle together. “You hate everything.”

“Nearly.”

\--

That night, like most nights, they paused outside Laura’s apartment door, and Laura waited for something, although she didn’t quite know what. The right cue, perhaps. The line that would prompt her, let her know that it was time to act. She did not need much; just one single scrap of proof that she wasn’t making any of it up. It felt as though she had been waiting for the right cue since the very day the cute new girl had moved into the apartment down the hall from hers. Thinking back to that day, Laura realized how little time had truly passed. It felt like a lifetime since she had first glimpsed Carmilla Karnstein, looking nearly the same as she did today, lugging cardboard boxes full of books up the stairs. Laura had been lost since the first time Carmilla had shot her a smile as they unlocked their doors at the same time.

“You’ll be okay from here?” asked Carmilla, and she was mostly joking.

Laura smiled. “I think I should be.”

Like all the previous nights, the moment passed without the cue, and Laura let the feeling slide away.

Carmilla quirked a smile and started to inch away, down the hall “I’ll see you around, Hollis.”

\--

Excerpt from “I NEVER SAW HER COMING” by Laura Hollis.

“ The following week was mostly uneventful. Carmilla saved me at a work; at a party thrown by my friend; at a diner. The air grew heavier until I forgot what lightness felt like. It came back to me only during brief respites, when Carmilla rested a hand on my shoulder, or when she threw me a smile from across a crowded room, and I forgot everyone else. ”

\--

“Inanna? Sure, I know that chick.”

Laura almost burst forward in her seat. She tapped her pen nervously on the pad in front of her. “You do?” she asked, keeping her voice low, not wanting to draw any attention in the crowded restaurant. “Have you met her?”

The hero known as Superfrat shrugged. “Sure. A couple years ago I hit up this crazy house party at some mansion she was using. Let me tell you, not the best I’ve been to. Real weird cultish vibe. Plus, it was BYOB.”

Laura asked, “Did you spend any time with her?”

“Not really,” he replied, sinking lower in his seat. He sat casually, almost draped across the back of the chair. He had come at the behest of a last-minute call from Laura, and as such, he looked slightly out of place. Amidst a crowd of people dressed for the November chill, his purple bro-tank, which read “GAINS” in all-caps, was rather conspicuous. He continued, “But after that party, I started to hang around that scene a lot. I only actually saw her a few times, though. Some pretty weird shit went down with this girl there a while ago, and it kind of turned me off the whole thing.”

Laura made a note. “What happened?”

“I'm not even super sure,” he said. “But there were actually two girls, now that I think about it. They were both heroes, both pretty cool. Always together. One of them disappeared at some party, and I never saw the other one again. Like, anywhere.”

Laura’s brow furrowed. “Do you remember anything about who they were? Names? Aliases, maybe?”

Kirsch shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, it's been a while, and they weren’t, like, known, you know? No superhero names, no personas, no media presence… But they were pretty decently known to people in the community. One of them had these totally lit fire powers. The other had something lame. I don’t remember.” He shrugged. “I'm sorry I can't help you more.” He grinned suddenly. “Hey, if you ever figure out what happened, you should let me know. I'd love to know that that girl’s okay.”

Laura jotted down a few more notes. “I will. Thanks, Superfrat.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, that reminds me… do you want to talk to Dan for me? My dad’s lawyer is getting kinda pissed that I haven't let him do anything yet. But I just want to settle this whole thing like bros. My real name’s Wilson, you know. I just wish she didn’t give me such a lame name. Like, I could have been, like, Supermuscle or something, instead, you know?”

Laura shook her head. “I’ll mention it to her.” After a moment, however, she added, “Though I kind of thought that you'd be sort of into the whole Greek life thing.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, “my frat was fucking awesome. Zetas for life. But at a certain point post-college it doesn't really help your image, you know?”

Laura nodded, her face serious. “Of course, Wilson.”

“Kirsch, actually. Oh!” he cried. “That was it. I just remembered. That girl? She could turn into a cat. Super lame, right?”

\--

Carmilla smiled when she opened her door that night. It was a familiar sight by this time, Laura, still in her work clothes, standing waiting in their hall. She stood out, Carmilla always thought, against the beige of the carpet and walls. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laura met her eyes but did not smile in return.“We need to talk.”

Carmilla’s face slackened. She stepped into the hall, pulling her door shut behind her. “Okay.”

\--

Laura leaned forward over her kitchen table, interlocking her fingers. “I think you need to tell me what happened,” she said. Her black blazer now hung over the back of her chair, and she had let her hair escape its neat ponytail. “With you and Inanna. I mean, I know you said you had dealt with her before but --”

“‘Dealt’ would be a rather loose description of what I did,” Carmilla cut in. “‘Ran’ might come closer to the truth.” She took a breath and paused, her eyes tracing the marks of Laura’s faux-wood table. When she spoke, it was sudden, and the words, though forced, were deliberate and did not stop. “When I first came to Styria, I was free for the first time in my life. My family had been rich but… troubled, and I suppose that’s all you need to know. I separated myself from them. I got a place and a job with Mattie.” She shook her head at the table, a rueful smile on her lips. “But I didn’t know what I was doing. I had never explored my powers before, and I was only just realizing what they were. Inanna… she welcomed me. She introduced me to people I never would have met. She invited me to parties. She showed me how much I could do.” Carmilla looked up. “But I wasn’t free. Her world seeped into every part of my life. I couldn’t breath anymore.”

Laura reached a hand across the table, and Carmilla took it gratefully. Slowly, Laura said, “I interviewed someone today and… and he said there was a girl.”

Carmilla smiled, her eyes far away. “There were lots of girls,” she said. After a moment, she shook her head. “But then, no, there weren’t, not really. There was only one who mattered. Her name was El, and she was a hero, too. And she made me feel like I could be one. For the first time in my life.”

Laura’s voice was soft. “So what happened?”

Carmilla shook her head. “She wanted out. So did I, but I would never have left on my own. Just for myself.” She grimaced and absentmindedly rubbed her fingers over the back of Laura’s hand. “Inanna took her, but she left me. I still don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry,” said Laura, shaking her head. “I had no idea.”

Carmilla looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “It was a long time ago. Things change. People change. I’m not a hero anymore.”

“But you are,” said Laura. “Of course you are. You… you saved me. Over and over, you’ve saved me.”

“I’ve endangered you,” corrected Carmilla, her voice wavering. Tears pricked at her eyes.

“What do you mean?” asked Laura.

“You know,” said Carmilla. “You have to get it by now. She’s only after you because I --” She felt silent abruptly. “Because I know you,” she finished, quieter.

“I don’t mind,” said Laura quickly. “I’m a journalist. Danger is no biggie. I’m just -- I’m glad that I met you.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Carmilla, barely looking at her.

“Of course I’m sure about it,” said Laura. She leaned forward across the table, and as though drawn together by some invisible force, Carmilla leaned forward, too. Laura continued, “I know it hasn’t been long but I -- I barely remember who I was a couple months ago. Obsessed with promotions and what other people thought, as though it mattered, as though anything…” She trailed off, looking into Carmilla’s eyes.

Abruptly, Carmilla shoved her chair back and stood up. “Your life is what matters, Laura,” she said. “Right now, we just have to worry about saving it.”

\--

Though it was a short walk, neither felt as though they dared face the shadow of the hallway. Or perhaps they simply did not want to be alone. Despite Laura’s insistence that she take the bedroom, Carmilla curled up on her couch.

Laura woke her up in the morning, pushing her shoulder lightly. “Hey,” she whispered, “Carm.”

Carmilla blinked and groaned, rolling over and taking a moment before she finally sat up. Light streamed in through Laura’s windows. “Morning,” she greeted, rubbing her eyes.

“Hi,” said Laura. “Breakfast?”

\--

First, Carmilla stopped at her place to change. She emerged after only a few minutes, dressed for the cold weather. Laura was waiting, and they walked side by side out of the building and down their busy street toward Laura’s favorite coffee place.

When they were nearly there, Carmilla stopped suddenly, in the middle of the sidewalk. She raised her head, looking out into the distance, focused on something she could not see. She shushed Laura without looking her way.

Laura followed her gaze but saw nothing but tall buildings and the bustle of other early-risers.

“Wait here,” said Carmilla, gesturing wildly toward her and rushing down the street.

Laura shook her head and jogged after her.

\--

“Get away from her,” snarled Carmilla, marching forward.

Laura halted suddenly, just across the street, watching as Carmilla rushed toward the altercation, her bootsteps heavy on the pavement. Laura’s breath caught in her throat, and her hand clenched and unclenched without her awareness. Her eyes locked on the scene that seemed at once so close and infinitely far away. The girl, a few years younger than Laura, struggled against the grip a man had on her long hair. Her voice tore through the air, and Laura wondered how she had been unable to hear it before. “Help!” she was crying, the same plea Carmilla had heard an echo of in the wind.

Carmilla morphed before their disbelieving eyes, mid-step. She growled, but it wasn’t a warning, and Carmilla swiped at the man an instant later. “Shit!” the man cried. He dropped the girl and darted down the street, Carmilla’s roar in his wake.

As he rounded the corner, all anger dropped out of Carmilla’s form. She turned, looked at the girl with soft, yellow eyes, and turned back in a fluid, quiet motion. “Are you okay?” she asked the girl.

Time unfroze for Laura, and she ran across the street to meet them.

“Thank you so much,” the girl breathed. She looked up at Carmilla with wide eyes. “I’m -- I’m going to call for a ride.”

\--

Laura and Carmilla sat waiting with the girl on a bench until her friend pulled up and ushered her into the car. They both waved as they drove away. Finally, Laura allowed herself to turn and stare at Carmilla.

“What?” asked Carmilla meeting her gaze with a look almost of surprise.

“You just did that,” said Laura. “I think you’re officially a hero.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “What was I supposed to do, nothing? I helped. That doesn’t make me a hero.”

“You are to that girl.” After a moment, Laura added, “And as usual, you are to me.”

Carmilla fell silent, but neither looked away. Her skin looked warm and pink in the chill of the air. Her breath came out white, as she gave Laura a shaky smile. Laura leaned forward.

Carmilla did, too.

Abruptly, Carmilla stood up from the bench. “I,”she started, “um --”

“Right,” said Laura, her hands falling to clutch the front of the bench. “Right.”

Carmilla waved a hand in no particular direction, shifting her weight from foot to foot, looking up at the sky. “Belmonde’s --”

Laura nodded. “Work --”

“I’ll…” Carmilla paused. “I’ll be around.” She turned and hurried down the street.

Laura grimaced and sunk lower onto the bench.

\--

Laura woke up early the next day and ducked out of her apartment without grabbing breakfast. Arms already full of books, she texted Carmilla, “I’ll be in the library all day.”

Within a minute, Carmilla sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

Laura swallowed and turned her phone all the way off, tucking it into her purse.

\--

Halfway through the stack of books overwhelming her table, and Laura was forced to confront the fact that she had learned nothing. Very few of the brittle, yellowed pages had yielded even a scrap of useful information. She knew no new facts about Inanna, and the few vague mentions which she had found, half of which she had had to text to Betty, the only languages major she knew, were all hopelessly mundane. She had, in all this time, scrawled only one note in her notebook. HASTUR?, it read. It was as underlined twice. Still, Laura had no context for it; Betty only said that it appeared a lot and that she had no translation. Laura groaned and let the book she was holding drop closed, some dust rising from its red cover.

She shoved the books away and pulled her notebook across the table and in front of her. She flipped to a new, crisp page and began absently sketching the figure of a girl. A cape? she wondered. Boots?

\--

On the walk home, a brown paper parcel tucked under her arm, Laura sent Carmilla a question. “Meet me at the Summers coffee place on 3rd?”

Carmilla answered in the affirmative, and Laura sighed in relief.

\--

“I bought you something.”

Carmilla showed up a few minutes later than Laura, and almost instantly upon being waved to her table, Laura had shoved the package into her hands. “Your costume, so to speak.”

Carmilla looked at it skeptically, almost as though it might bite. She pulled apart the yarn bow without saying a word, then gingerly peeled back the paper. Her fingers trembled as they brushed over the black cloth.

“You are a hero,” said Laura. “Whether you want to put a name to it or not.”

Carmilla pulled the garment up and held it in front of her, blocking out Laura. It was black leather, shiny and smooth with a soft inner lining. Its zippers glinted silver in the sunlight from the window next to them. Carmilla cleared her throat. “Well, it’s not exactly spandex.”

Laura’s brow furrowed. “Do you… want spandex?”

Carmilla lowered the jacket. “It’s perfect,” she said.

Laura smiled. “Well, I am pretty great at this stuff.”

“Laura?” callled a barista, signalling the advent of their to-go cups. As Laura walked up to the counter, Carmilla swept up the wrapping and threw it away. Laura joined her, handed her a coffee, and Carmilla nodded at the door, folding the jacket over her arm. “Let’s go home.”

Carmilla walked a few feet ahead of Laura until they were well down the sidewalk; then, under the shade of a great evergreen tree, she waited, her arm outheld.

Laura grabbed her hand and swung her arm lightly as they walked.

They had gotten nearly back to their apartment building -- could see it, in fact, standing above the other buildings -- when Laura said, “Hey Carm?”

“Yeah, Laur?”

Laura swallowed and decided that if there were any cue to be had, then she would rather die than wait for it.

“Were you planning on kissing me any time soon?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes and shot Laura a sidelong smile. “You know, I was getting to that.”

“Oh,” said Laura, holding down a smile, “then by all means, take your time.”

Carmilla led her up the stairs to their building and down the front hall. In the lobby, they waited in silence, side by side, for the elevator to chime.

When it finally arrived, they stepped inside in an orderly fashion. They stood next to each other, gazes straight ahead, with their arms at their sides. They waited patiently for the doors to slide shut before Carmilla reached for Laura’s wrist, spun her around, and pressed her back against the cold metal wall. Carmilla paused a moment as she stepped forward, so close that Laura could feel the heat coming off her body, and brushed the honey brown hair out of Laura’s face.

Laura leaned forward as Carmilla did, and they kissed, gently at first.

Carmilla tasted like coffee, almost bitter, but just right. Her lips were warm, despite the chill of the air outside. Her hands were blessedly solid against Laura’s hips.

Laura kissed her until she felt like she could be the hot chocolate she had forgotten on the floor of the elevator, warm, and frothy, and overflowing. They were both giggling though neither of them had told a joke. The elevator arrived at their floor, and they jumped apart. Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, and Laura looked up at the ceiling. But the hallway was empty. Carmilla smirked, leaned over, and pressed the button for the highest floor in their building.

\--

That night, Laura’s dream began in sunshine.

After a day involving kissing at elevators, kissing in hallways, and taking liberal advantage of JP’s offer to keep Mattie out of the store room -- which she seemed almost too happy to comply with, given the wink she shot Laura when they emerged -- Laura had reluctantly left Carmilla’s side. She made a cup of tea and called LaF, who she spoke to in a greater than average volume for many minutes. Finally, when it was no longer night but early morning, she curled up in her bed in her apartment, alone and exhausted but still giddy. A smile on her face, she fell into a deep sleep.

In the dream, Laura’s apartment looked the way it did in the summer, when sunlight streaked through the glass window panes and french doors, illuminating her home and turning it into an airy, comfortable space, making even the clutter look cute and purposeful. Laura was seated on the couch in her living room. She looked down slowly and saw that her notebook rested closed in her hands. She raised her head again. She felt slow, like she had been submerged in molasses. But that did not worry her. It was all right, she thought. Sure, she could not move, but she had nowhere to be. There was still a light smile on her face.

A shadow paced in front of her. Or rather, an amalgam of shadow paced in front of her; there was something there, hidden under the layers and layers of misty dark, but it had been so obfuscated that Laura could not tell what or who it was.

The shadow was muttering gibberish, but as Laura focused, the words became more and more clear. “Why would you do that,” the thing asked, in a female voice, in a booming whisper. It sounded exasperated. “Made a hero out of her. Why would you do that? Could have left well enough alone, but you made a hero out of --”

The figure turned suddenly towards Laura, and though she still could not make out its true shape, Laura felt the weight of the figure’s piercing gaze. The hair on the back of her neck stood on-end.

“You will regret this,” the voice said, no longer muttering. “You will rue the day, Laura Hollis.”

The shadows disappeared in a heavy puff of smoke, and as it cleared, Laura saw instead the panther lying neatly on the floor behind it.

\--

“What’s going on?” demanded Carmilla.

“I don't know!” cried Laura. “I don't know. Did we have to same dream?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” said Carmilla. “Don’t you see? She was really here. I couldn’t sleep, and I noticed the energy pooling around your place, it was like like muck, it was seeping into the hallway -- It was so strong, Laura, I --”

It was early morning, and the light coming through Laura’s windows now had a soft quality about it. Carmilla took a step toward Laura and her face softened, too. She placed her hand on the side of Laura’s face sweeping her hair away, and Laura’s face melted. She rested her hand gently on top of Carmilla’s.

“We can figure this out,” said Laura, her voice quiet. “Together.”

Carmilla shook her head. “She wants me, Laura. I don't know why, but I do know how she operates. She won't stop at threats, she’ll --” Carmilla lowered her voice, which had been rising in tone. “She won't stop until she’s burned everything away.” Carmilla swallowed, looking down at the floor. “Laura, listen to me. I might have to go away for a little whi --”

“No!” Laura tightened her grip on Carmilla’s wrist. “You can't, okay? We're a team.” She smiled. “Besides, I haven't finished writing my article yet.”

Carmilla bit her lip and nodded. “Well,” she said, “how could I leave in that case?”

\--

LaF set down the book they were holding. “Listen, Laur,” they said, their voice quiet to comply with library rules, “you know I'm always up to be the cavalry, but I really don't think this is doing any good.”

Laura grimaced and shut her book, too, shoving it away. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“Hey,” asked LaF, “where's your new girlfriend? Wasn’t she supposed to be here by now? We could seriously use the help.”

“My friend --” Laura cut herself off, realizing that however confused she might have been about ending the sentence, “friend” did not even begin to cover it. “I… am not actually sure what she is. But she --”

LaF interjected, “Kissing and romance friend?”

“Sure,” said Laura. “Let's go with that. My romance friend is talking to her book store owner sister, and then she will meet up with us later.”

And Laura believed that. Right up until the moment her phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.

Is this Laura? It's Mattie. Come immediately.

\--

Laura nearly threw open the door to Belmonde’s, despite its prominent closed sign. Her force sent the bell rigged to it ringing, and the sound echoed through the quiet store.

Mattie was standing still as marble, her back to them, one hand gripping the mahogany counter, the other resting in her hair. She turned a moment after she heard them enter.

“I'm glad you're here, Laura,” Mattie said, her voice quiet. It was a cheap imitation of calm, like the moments between waves in a storm. “It would appear that my sister has done something very stupid.”

“What's going on?” asked Laura, striding forward. “Where is Carmilla?”

“Where do you think?” asked Mattie, and with her other hand she gripped the counter even tighter. “She has gone to her. Because of you.”

“I didn't --” Laura shook her head. “I told her not to. We don't even know where she is --”

“Are you a child?” Mattie snapped. “You are new in Carmilla’s life, but I have seen it all. I was there the last time, when Carmilla barely scraped her way out of that monster’s hole with her life. I know Inanna’s terrors as well as my sister, and I know that if Carmilla wants to see her, it is not a matter of finding her. She will find Carmilla, and then she will stop at nothing to be rid of her.”

“We have to find her,” breathed Laura.

Mattie nodded, lowering her arms and stepping forward. “I'm glad you see the picture. Inanna has what she wants now, so I doubt you can barge into the street yelling her name as Carmilla did. I recommend you call in as many favors as you have. I am.”

“LaF?” said Laura, turning. “Toss me my phone?”

\--

Within an hour, Danny had shoved desks aside and turned the Silas HQ into a veritable battle station. Every superhero Laura knew was there to help -- Superfrat, The Swagmaster, Artemis, Doc, as well as a whole host of them Laura did not even recognize. Laura stood in the midst of it all. “Thank you, everyone, for coming,” she said, in her most master-of-ceremonies voice. “I know that --”

“Just point us toward the violence,” interrupted Betty, stepping forward and cracking her knuckles. “Not to cut off your pep-talk or anything but…”

Laura nodded. “No, you’re right. We are facing a primal evil and we need to get a move on. Kirsch?” Laura looked around and threw up her hands. “Okay, who here knows where Kirsch is?”

Elsie, who was perched at a desk in the corner of the room focused on her phone, looked up briefly. “He and Danny are still in the conference room fighting about the lawsuit. These walls are crazy thin, I’m live-tweeting it. Whatcha need?”

“I need to know where Inanna is hiding out!” cried Laura. “But apparently I can’t do that, because my one connection to her is --”

“Are you serious?” interrupted Elsie. “Her main crib’s the creepy mansion uptown.” She looked back at her phone. “I’ll text you the address.”

Laura stopped, blinking. “Oh my god,” she said, “thank you. And also… how do you know that?”

“I’m a reporter?” Laura’s phone vibrated in her back pocket. “Look alive, Hollis.”

\--

The mansion stood alone and terrible, overlooking the city on a hill all its own. By this time, it stood a dark shadow against the starless night sky.

“Look,” said Mel, adjusting the sword hanging over her back, “no offence, Laura, Mattie, but let us handle this. We’ll go on ahead. We’ll get Carmilla out safely.”

“Right,” said Laura, her voice sounding wrong in her ears. “Okay.”

She stopped walking then, and instead stood numbly alongside Mattie, watching rows and rows of heroes, heroes overdue for a good fight, pour over the gates and into the building.

Finally, they stood alone in the massive driveway.

Suddenly, Mattie snapped away from the sky and looked at Laura, almost smiling. She grabbed her hand. “Well?” she asked, striding forward, pulling Laura along behind her. “Let’s go get our girl.”

\--

The wood floor shifted underneath Laura’s feet, but she did not slip. She did not even move; she was the only rooted thing in an unreal environment. Laura felt as though she was looking at the whole house through a funhouse mirror. As though it was an MC Escher painting, and she was one of those unlucky souls on those stairs.

Laura and Mattie were on the second floor, or at least, Laura thought they were. The spiral staircase had vanished when Laura turned her back. Now, they were stuck in a darkened, ornate living room, where the carpet sunk Laura to her ankles, and everything looked as though it had been untouched -- even unseen -- for years. A layer of dust hung over everything. Mattie was across the room from Laura, staring at a wall, apparently studying something that Laura couldn’t see.

It was then that Laura realized that the room did not have any exits.

Laura stepped toward a bookcase on the opposite wall and ran a finger over a line of leather spines. They whispered words to her in languages she did not understand.

Something cold trickled down Laura back. She twirled around to find herself alone; Mattie had gone, the furniture had gone, the walls had closed in. She was in a long, dark hallway with damp walls and water dripping intermittently from the ceiling, each drop making a clear sound on the stone floor. Though there was no light at the end, Laura heard, echoing from deep inside the hallway, the sound of Carmilla’s voice.

Laura broke into a run.

\--

The end of the hall widened into a circular room, lit by dim lanterns on the floor. It was divided into two sections, one a bit smaller than the other, by a cage-like set of bars. Behind the smaller of these was Carmilla, slumped forward on a worn-out chair, her arms dangling between her leg.

“Carm!” cried Laura, the second she could make out her shape. She rushed across the room.

Carmilla looked up. “Laura,” she said, her voice deep and desperate, “you shouldn’t be here.”

Laura came to a halt in front of the bars. “Of course I should be here,” she said, looking down. She gripped the bars, as they were not wide enough to shove an arm through.

Carmilla’s gaze rose as if to look Laura in the face, but instead kept going, looking over Laura’s shoulder.

Laura turned slowly. In an identical chair on the other side of the room sat a young woman in a long robe, her red, curly hair, tied atop her head in an elaborate bun. She smiled, and it was all teeth.

\--

“Hello,” the woman greeted, standing and stretching, the fabric of her robe sweeping the floor. “Nice of you to join us, Laura.” She waved a hand as she approached. “Don’t worry, your friends won’t interrupt us. They’ll never find their way here. They're dealing with their own demons, at the moment. I sent a few of them after you once, do you remember?”

“What’s going on?” asked Laura, clenching her fists. “What did you do to her?”

Inanna frowned. “Do to her? She came here willingly. I haven’t touched a hair on her head.”

“She can’t,” rasped Carmilla.

Inanna looked displeased, her mouth twisting down. “Correct. People say that life is unfair, but I say that it is bitingly so.”

Laura’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Inanna smiled and shook her head. “Such a reporter. Well, I’ll give you the scoop if you want it. Carmilla should hear this, too. Besides,” she shrugged, “I’ve been rehearsing.” Inanna took a step closer to the cell, raising a hand as though to reach out to Carmilla. “I may look young today, but I’ve seen empires rise and fall.” She cocked her head. “Funny how they always fall. Today you all see magic as a plaything, as an ornament, as a piece of theater. But I’ve seen what it can do.” She turned and looked at Laura. “In the right hands, of course.” Turning back to Carmilla, she continued, “I was never powered. I was weak, and I was used. But I was always smart. I made a deal, and I got everything you see before you.” She dropped her hands. “But there has to be balance.”

Her voice lowered, until she was almost whispering. She looked up, up at something far away. “They created it, just as I did. Something to chain me once again. And they called it the power of Hastur.”

“And I have it,” finished Carmilla.

“Correct,” said Inanna, her voice bitter and loud, now. “There’s always someone who can kill you. Most people have more than me.” She turned to Laura. “But I cannot allow Carmilla to become a hero. No delusions of justice for this one. Do you understand? El didn’t, and I had to cut her loose.”

“Carmilla is already a hero,” said Laura. “She always has been.”

Inanna shook her head. “Do you think that will help you? Impassioned speeches and declarations? How adorably naive.” She turned fully toward Laura, stepping forward until she could raise a hand beneath Laura’s chin and tip up her head. Laura swallowed. “Don’t take it personally, Laura. It’s not about you. Carmilla had been losing her fear for a while before you showed up.”

She dropped Laura’s head, and looked over her shoulder at Carmilla. “You brave thing, you. You tried so hard to be happy. I was just running surveillance at first, but I saw the way you looked at the girl on your floor.” Inanna shook her head. “You should never have tried to save her.”

“If we leave,” burst Laura suddenly, “and never come back, will you let us go?”

Inanna smiled. “That’s a sweet offer, and I’m sure you mean it. But this is the real world.”

It was only then that Laura saw the glint of the knife in Inanna’s right hand, the blade hidden among the layers of fabric of her skirt, shining almost like another piece of jewelry.

Before Laura could move, before the warning cry had even left her lips, Inanna rushed toward her, the cleaver raised, a silver blur.

“No!” screamed Carmilla. The sound echoed off the walls of the room, through the whole house, so that even those fighting on the fourth floor were forced to pause and wonder what could possibly have evoked such a display of pain.

Laura saw something big and dark fly toward her, felt something heavy and soft hit her side and push her over. She landed on her knees on the stone floor, and she squeezed her eyes shut, because all she could hear next to her were growls and roars and something heavy hitting the floor.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. Laura opened her eyes slightly, blinked, and saw nothing but an ordinary, if ominous, room. She got to her feet and brushed off her pants. The room seemed calm. The whole house seemed calm; Laura felt it shift and settle under her feet, and after that it did not move an inch.

Laura turned around and saw Carmilla and Inanna sitting on the floor next to each other, slouched against the wall, Carmilla’s hand pressing on Inanna’s shoulder.

Inanna, panting slightly, shook her head. “I hate you,” she snarled, looking back and forth between Laura to Carmilla.

“What… what’s going on?” asked Laura.

“The power of Hastur,” said Carmilla. “Balance.”

Inanna heaved and a deep sigh and nodded. “Mine came from heartbreak.” She turned her head and looked at Carmilla with disgust. “Hers came from love.”

Laura got down on her knees. “You okay?” she asked Carmilla, cupping her face in her hands.

Carmilla smiled. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Laura leaned forward and kissed her. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Ugh,” muttered Inanna. “Get a room.”

At that instant, the door swung open. “Carmilla?” cried Mattie, stumbling inside, breathing heavily.

Carmilla raised her unoccupied hand. “Hey, sis.”

A grin came over Mattie’s face, and she pointed, shaking with relief, at Carmilla. “You stupid romantic.”

\--

“So are you guys going to be like this forever?” asked Danny

Carmilla glanced down at the handcuff linking her and Inanna together. “It might get in the way,” she said. “But I’m sure we’ll --”

“Yes, yes,” said Inanna. “I’ll be good. Anything to get out of this love fest.”

It was dawn, and everyone was gathered on the mansion’s front grounds, which looked almost friendly in the light of day.

Danny smiled at Carmilla once more, resting a hand on her hip. “Oh, we are going to make a story out of you, my friend.”

Laura stepped forward. “Hey Danny? Betty was looking for you.”

Danny grinned. “Nice. Wish me luck with The Swagmaster, guys.” She walked away, waving.

Laura slipped her hand into Carmilla’s empty one. “So,” she said, pressing a kiss to Carmilla’s cheek, “busy day.”

Carmilla nodded. “I think most of the heroes are going out to breakfast. I pity the diner. Want to tag along?”

Laura shrugged. “Do you want to?”

Carmilla shook her head. “I want to drop off Third Wheel here and go home.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Laura swung Carmilla’s arm lightly. She added, after a moment, “So, I had another idea for your superhero name.”

“What’s that?”

“What about…” She looked thoughtfully up at the sky. “Carmilla?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes and smiled. “Let’s put it on the jacket.”

\--

Laura pressed a trio of kisses to Carmilla’s breast bone, and she felt Carmilla shiver underneath her. Carmilla’s fingers slipped into Laura’s hair, scratching at her scalp.

Laura rested her head on Carmilla’s chest and snuggled in, closing her eyes. She pulled Carmilla’s comforter up to her neck. “So,” she said, “what now?”

“I’m not sure,” said Carmilla, staring at the ceiling. “You’ve got an article, I guess, and I’ve got the bookstore job. I should probably give you some sort of formal interview, either for the piece or some sort of a follow up. Betty said some stuff about initiating me into the Styria superhero group-chat, and I’m honestly still not sure if she was telling the truth --”

Laura looked up. “Okay, that all sounds great, Carm, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I meant in terms of today. Like, food-wise. And later us-wise.”

Carmilla replied, “I am 100 percent in favor of any plan that doesn’t include leaving this apartment. Order a pizza?”

“Seconded,” said Laura. She sat up halfway and looked at her phone, still sitting on top of her clothes on Carmilla’s bedroom floor. “My phone is far away,” she said.

“Pity,” said Carmilla. “Mine is in the other room. I guess we can’t do anything.”

“Nope,” agreed Laura. “We’re trapped.”

Carmilla tipped Laura’s head forward and kissed her.

\--

Laura stepped in front of the mirror and adjusted her hair. “What do you think?” she asked.

Carmilla walked up behind her and draped her arms over Laura’s neck, kissing her cheek. “I think you look perfect.”

Despite Danny’s worst fears, The Silas had only grown in recent years. Laura, in what little free time she had, what with her position as editor, had expanded her front-page piece to an entire book: “I Never Saw Her Coming: the mostly autobiographical story of love, danger, and journalistic integrity” by Laura Hollis. (“Isn’t that a little long?” asked Danny, though the point was moot because by then she would have done anything for the story that had made her paper a household name.)

Laura, still fussing with the hem of her suit jacket, smiled at Carmilla over her shoulder. “Betty texted by the way, she and Danny are going to be a little late. They had to stop so Betty could fight some villain on the subway.”

“That reminds me,” said Carmilla, groaning and taking a step back. “Kirsch wants me to fight him at the Subway this Sunday. The actual Subway. With sandwiches.”

“Does he think he'll get a discount?”

“I'm not sure,” Carmilla mused. “Maybe he just wants to steal some while everyone’s distracted.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, I told him you and I were busy with wedding stuff. Nonnegotiable.”

“Your fans are going to be disappointed,” Laura chided. “You haven’t given them something to gif in months. I know how they feel. They’re getting desperate.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Too bad.”

“Oh,” Laura added, “remind me to talk to LaF and Perry when they get here -- LaF told me that they have some new ideas about your jacket, and they want to apply a protective coating over your ring, in case you, say, wanted to punch somebody in the face with it.”

“Goodie.”

Laura turned and kissed Carmilla gently, leaving her hand on Carmilla’s face when she pulled back. Her engagement ring glinted in the light of the lamp. “My hero.”

Carmilla grasped her other hand, smiling at the familiar joke. “My reporter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Superman" by Taylor Swift.


End file.
